Page 19 of Valentine Nook
Fan-fucking-tastic.
CHAPTER 4
Holiday
“And he was naked?”
“Yeah. Naked.”
“Totally naked?”
“Totally naked.”
“You saw his?—”
“Yup, everything.”
“And?”
I shift on the unicorn float and lift my glasses up so I can properly see Clemmie’s face. She’s lying in the middle of a fire-engine float, and as I thought, her expression is as eager as her tone. She wantsallthe gossip.
“And what?”
“Well, before we try to figure out who he is, I want to know if he’s worth figuring out. Was he hot?”
Swinging my legs around while trying to maintain my balance, I paddle my hand through the water until I reach the side, and the tanning lotions neatly stacked in a little wicker tray. The scent of coconut and sunshine permeates the air as I spray it over my legs and rub it in.
My preconceived ideas about England always being coldand rainy have been proven incorrect because the past few days have seen heat similar to California but with added humidity.
It’s also without the AC, but that’s a totally separate issue that I’ll have to deal with another day.
For now, I’m content lying on this unicorn float, sipping cocktails, and soaking in the rays. It’s glorious.
I hadn’t planned to come and hang out with Clemmie again so soon, but after two days of unpacking almost everything and sweating my ass off, I caved the second she invited me over.
Anything to stop myself from going back to the waterfall.
I haven’t dared, yet I can’t stop thinking about it.
My legs are still scratched from the brambles catching me as I ran away. By the time I reached my cottage, chest heaving from exertion, I didn’t know whether to collapse or laugh.
“It was hard to tell. He was standing under the waterfall. Dark hair, beard?—”
“Any tattoos?”
I shake my head. “No, but there was a lot of chest hair, so maybe underneath.”
“He was hairy? Gross. I hate hairy men.” Clemmie shudders dramatically. She picks up her plastic cup with the curly watermelon straw sticking out of it. The sun bounces off her pinkie ring as she attempts to swing the straw into her mouth. “What else?”
“Nothing. I ran off.”
“Hmm.”
I leave out the bit about his powerful thighs and rock-hard chest, stacked abs. I don’t tell her this guy looked like he swung tires over his head and threw hay bales for fun. Just because he could. Even in the few seconds I stood there while the water poured over him, I could tell his wasn’t a body carved from spending hours in the gym, not like the guys I knew anyway. Movie guys.
It wouldn’t occur to this guy to watch what he ate. He’d burn it off by wrangling a few cows. Or by spending a hard day in a saddle. Whatever guys did around here to keep fit, anyway.
“What was his dick like?”
